I came to the Stream the 13th of November, 2005 and made my first post the next evening. It was one of the first of many stories about the Hitchcock Railway. I've decided to post it again as my way of completing a circular journey that has provided me with more than I could have ever hoped for.
Thanks to all of you who have made me feel so much a part of something wonderful and magical and vibrant and alive. Here's to another fascinating year of discovery, friendship, sharing and many, many smiles.
My first post:
The Hitchcock Railway
Destination: Boiler Bay
Margo and Vincent boarded a train that had no destination. They were strangers travelling west through the desert toward the sea. Maybe there was a predertermined agenda not yet revealed to them. Such was life on the Hitchcock Railway.
Vincent stared out the window, drew deeply on his cigarette and sipped his coffee. His thoughts drifted to the previous evening. Mike made an excellent point. It was five years since LaQuettta’s death and five years was a long time mourning. Vincent was finally ready to move on.
A strikingly attractive woman sat across the aisle trying her best not to stare at Vincent. He reminded her of someone, but she wasn’t sure who. His wild eyes and bushy beard reminded her of Jack Elam. His flowing long hair and confident demeanor reminded her of a hiwayman she’d read about in her school books. She gave Vincent a tentative smile.
Vincent’s rugged face registered a hint of embarrassment as he realized she was smiling at him. His shyness intrigued her. How can such a confident and intimdating man be shy? Maybe he’ll introduce himself to me. Vincent crossed the aisle to her table. “Good morning. May I join you? Seems a shame to ride through the desert alone.”
She motioned toward the chair across the table. Margo was flustered and mildly aroused by this man with the provocative eyes and deep, resonant voice. “I’m Vincent. And you are?” He gently took her hand in his.
“I’m Margaurite, but no one calls me that except my grandmother. Call me Margo.” She struggled to maintain her composure. Rarely did anyone have such an effect on her. It was frightening, yet titillating.
They rode through the desert, Vincent regaling her with tales of Chago Canyon and the legend of Elfego Baca. Their conversation flowed seemlessly. Vincent barely touched his breakfast. Margo glanced at his plate and wrinkled her nose. “You’re meal’s getting cold!”
“Yes. And so is yours!” Vincent smiled, his gaze lowereing to her breasts and quickly back to her face. He seemed embarrassed once more. Margo was flattered by his attention but was careful not to let it show.
It was nearing sunset when the train arrived in Boiler Bay, slowing as it neared the station. Vincent stood, took his sea bag and turned to bid his new-found friend good by. An expression of sadness flashed in Margo’s eyes. Vincent hesitated for a moment, as if he were unsure what to do next. Vincent slowly reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come with me, Margo.”
She hesitated and smiled. There was a hint of concern in her eyes. “There has to be a condition to our encounter.”
Vincent stared at her, hesitating before he answered. “Okay.”
“We agree. Tomorrow I leave alone.”
Vincent noded in agreement. “If that’s what you wish then that’s what it’ll be.”
They arrived at the ramshackle cabin. The porch faced the ocean. Margo felt like she’d stepped through a portal into another place and time. She set her bag on the floor and surveyed the cabin. There were no interior walls. It was unusual to say the least. An elegant stone fireplace filled one wall and a huge rug made of colorful remnants covered the floor. Native American artifacts were everywhere and oil lamps lined the mantel. There were shelves with rows and rows of books. A huge mahogany desk sat in the middle of the room, maps and drawings scattered across it’s top. A telescope stood pointing out the window and a huge brass bed abuttted another wall with an ancient sea chest at its foot. Margo smiled. “Your cabin’s interesting. There’s alot of you here.”
“A simple home for a simple man.” Vincent responded.
Not likely. Whatever this man is, simple he surely isn’t. Margo smiled nervously, unsure of what to do next. She gave in to her impulse and pulled him close. Her lips met his and their tongues intertwined, tasting the passion of the moment. Margo’s breath was rapid and strong, warm and moist against Vincent’s face. They tumbled onto the bed. Vincent unbuttoned Margo’s shirt and unhooked her lace bra. Her magnificent breasts spilled out, nipples pouting enticingly. Margo unsnapped Vincent’s shirt and slid it off his broad shoulders. Her breathing quickened as she surveyed his powerfully body. Even his scars, remnants of traumatic times long passed, intrigued her.
Margo stood and unbuttoned her slacks, letting them fall slowly to the floor. Vincent lay on the bed, his eyes caressing her voluptuous body. Margo leaned across the bed and gently tugged on Vincent’s trousers. He finished removing them and pulled Margo closer. She resisted, smiling mischieviously. “Not just yet. Let me lead for now.”
Vincent lay silently anticipating Margo’s next move. She reminded him of a jungle cat stalking it’s prey. Margo’s hands lit fires of sensation on Vincent’s skin as her lips teased his nipples. Her tongue swirled lightly urging moans of pleasure from him. She raised her head and smiled. “What shall I do to bring you pleasure, Vincent?”
Vincent gave her a long, hungry stare. “H’mmm. Well. Let your imagination be your guide.” Margo grinned wickedly. “You’re a courageous man, Vincent. Are you sure you can handle me?”
“I think I can handle you.”
He took her by the hair and pulled her head close to his and their mouths met in a passionate, wet kiss. Margo pressed her body tighter to Vincent, wanting to devour him inch by inch.Vincent lowered his head and took her proud nipples, one, then the other, in his mouth. His tongue created pools of heat on her skin. “Oh Vincent . . .please . . . .oh. . .don’t stop!”
Margo’s nails traced erotic patterns on his back and her hips surged against his crotch. Vincent’s lips moved from Margo’s pouting breasts to her neck. He nuzzled and kissed her, nibbled her ear lobes and moved back to her nipples. Margo took his hair in both hands and guided his mouth from one breast to the other, urging him to suck and nibble harder. Fiery arousal flooded her body as she writhed and struggled. With a surge of strength she rolled on top of Vincent. “You’re getting ahead of me!” Margo gave him a deliciously sadistic smile.
“I’m a hard dog to keep on the porch.”
“Maybe you need some training.” Margo rolled onto her side, deftly slipped out of her undergarment and knelt on Vincent’s face, her moist pussy positioned over his eager mouth. Just as he was about to begin giving her some mind-blowing oral sex, Margo clamped her legs tightly around his head. He gripped her thigh with his hands. Her taut muscles gave no indication of loosening. Vincent was effectively restrained and very much at Margo’s mercy.
Margo reached for a glass on the nightstand and slurped several ice cubes into her mouth. She engulfed his bulging erection with her mouth, sending pleasurable sensations surging through Vincent’s body. Margo continued to tease and tantalize him as his muffled groans filled the room. Margo cupped his sack in her hand, gently kneeding him as her tongue traced the rim of his cock. She tasted the first drops of love liquid and knew he was close to orgasm. She slid her mouth farther down his shaft and Vincent lunged upward. Warm, salty liquid filled her mouth. Margo relaxed her grip on Vincent and smiled wickedly. “Had enough?”
“Well, yes. For the moment at least.” He flashed her a contented grin.
Vincent reminded Margo of the fierce and powerful brown bears she’d seen during her visits to Montana. Yet he was gentle and unassuming. There was much more she wanted to learn about him, but so little time. Margo’s physical needs took priority. She was thoroughly aroused and desperately needed satisfaction. She slowly mounted his face. His organ lay limp, his tongue and lips would have to suffice. Margo was certain it would be more than adequate. She was sure that Vincent had talents she’d not yet discovered. His strong hands gripped her thighs, lips pressed tightly to her. His tongue targeted her g-spot. She exhaled loudly and moaned. “Oh! Vincent! Oh yes. Right there, yes, right there!”
Margo’s hips thrashed uncontrollably and her nails clawed his chest. A wave of pleasure swept through her, destroying every vestage of self-control. It was frightening. It was exciting. Margo screamed loudly as tears dripped down her cheeks and fell onto her thighs. “Oh! Vincent. Jesus! Fuck! Oh God, please don’t stop!” Margo heard herself scream and curse. It was as if the voice she heard came from another. It was unnerving, yet exhilerating.
Vincent slurped, licked and sucked relentlessly. Margo was insane with passion.The images in the room blurred and she could barely catch her breath. She rode a tide of pleasure and waves of orgasm came crashing over her as she exploded in a burst of warm love liquid. She was exhausted and blissfully happy.Vincent sat up, cradled her head in his lap and wiped her tears away with his hand. Concern showed in his eyes. “You’re crying. Are you . . . .”
Before he could finish, Margo put a finger to his lips. “They’re tears of joy, sweet man. You are amazing.”
Vincent smiled at her tenderly as he brushed her hair out of her eyes. Margo sighed contendedly, snuggling closer. “Tell me more about your seafaring days.”
He spoke quietly, his deep voice wrapped her in visions of far-away ports of call. She loved listening to him. His stories made her smile and laugh. It had been a long time since she’d felt so safe, content and peaceful.
Margo awoke to the smell of mesquite smoke wafting through the air. She sat up and pulled Vincent’s shirt around her. He was nowhere to be seen. She padded across the room to the porch. Vincent was standing in front of a grill poking at meat cooking on the grill and slowly rolling two squash back and forth in the fire. He glanced up and smiled. “Finally awake, huh? Are you hungry?”
Margo smiled back. She was famished. “Those steaks look delicious.”
“They are. Better than beef. Ever eat buffalo?”
A skeptical expression spread across Margo’s face. Good lord! I should have guessed. I wonder what other surprises I’ll find for dinner.
Vincent and Margo sat eating at a worn, wooden table. She was pleasantly surprised. The meal was wonderful and Vincent was a charming host, tending to her every need. Margo sipped on her glass of apple juice as Vincent watched her intently. She wriggled in her chair. So much attention was disconcerting yet she was beginning to develop a real affinity for it. Dusk was settling around the cabin and Vincent lit the oil lamps on the mantel.
Shadows danced on the walls as Vincent took Margo’s hand and led her back to the bed. He held her face in his hands and gave her a long, passionate kiss. She fell backward on the bed and Vincent lowered his body onto hers. Margo held him by the hair, guiding his mouth to her breasts. Vincent gently teased her nipples with his tongue and nibbled her breasts. Ripples of pleasure washed over her and she could feel his member swelling, rubbing lightly against her inner thigh. Margo moaned quietly. “Oh, Vincent. That feels so good. Oh! Please. Please don’t stop.”
Vincent complied. He desperately wanted to enter her, but proceeded slowly. Pleasure this intense was best consumed in a liesurely fashion. Margo explored his back with her fingers, running her nails lightly up and down his sides. She breathed heavily, forcing herself not to claw him harder. Her inner animal was struggling to escape. Margo could feel flames of arousal licking at her. She wanted him to take her and show her no mercy. She wanted him to do to her what she had done to him. “Oh, Vincent. Take me. Take me from behind!”
Vincent knelt behind Margo as she perched on all fours. She could feel his magnificent cock teasing her moist slit and lightly brushing her clit. She gasped for air,
anxious to feel him buried in her. His hands massaged her back and teased the cheeks
of her ass. Vincent slowly penetrated her, the head of his cock just inside her. He seemed to enjoy making her suffer. Margo knew the feeling. She loved being in control. Giving up
that control was another matter entirely but it was getting easier and easier as Vincent continued to tease and probe her. “Vincent! Oh god! I want you in me. Oh! Please! More baby! Oh, oh . . . .Jesus!” Margo gripped the pillow near her head, nearly ripping it in two.
Vincent continued to torment Margo. He thrust himself into her slowly, hesitating with each stroke, teasing her mercilessly. Gradually the rhythm quickened. He thrust deep into her, forcing gasps of pleasure from her with every movement. Margo buried her face in the pillow, her muffled screams reverberated off the wall. Vincent gripped her waist, pulling her into him with each stroke. His cock filled her with pleasure. Margo frantically pounded the bed with her fists, begging him to fuck her harder. Sweat dripping from Vincent’s face mingled with Margo’s. With a violent shudder and a primal scream, Margo erupted in orgasm, love juice dripping onto the blanket. She gasped and shrieked, wanting the pleasure to stay and never go away. Vincent continued to drive his cock into her with wild abandon. His guttural screams filled the air as his fiery load penetrated deep into Margo. She fell onto her side and Vincent fell forward next to her.
Margo cuddled close to him. “Now, Vincenzo . . . . . .now I’m satisfied.”
Vincent snuggled closer to Margo and his eyes slowly closed. Suddenly, they opened again. She had called him by his proper name. It unnerved him. No one had called him by that name since his grandfather died many years before. Vincent was too spent and exhausted to pursue the matter. Questions would have to wait for morning.
Rays of sun shone through the window and Vincent felt a cool, ocean breeze wash over his body. He slowly opened his eyes. Margo was gone and he was alone in the cabin. All that remained of her was the scent of her perfume and her warm, wonderful memory. Vincent could hear the long, lonesome sound of a train whistle in the distance.
He smiled slightly. It was a sad smile. “She and I, we’ll ride the Hitchcock Railway again one day. I’m sure of it.”
